Sanctuary
by celine24
Summary: MulderOther fic. MSR in a flashback. Mulder has a new partner, while coping with Scully's death.


He had the kind of eyes that could change color in a second. Hazel one moment and deep, emerald green the next. Eyes that gave away his thoughts and feelings.

His hair was dark brown, changing shades as the light struck it at different angles. He wore a blue work-shirt rolled up to his elbows which now rested

on numerous photographs and papers he was working on. I cleared my throat. 'Agent Mulder, I'm Special Agent Celine Riley. I've been assigned to work with you.'

He listened and nodded slightly. 'They said to expect you,' he said simply. He had a deep voice, but it was gentle. He stood up and leaned over the cluttered

table to shake my hand. He had a firm grip. 'I'm Fox Mulder,' he said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. I sat down while he eyed me carefully.

'Listen, I don't know how much they've told you or what you know about my work but if I know them as well as I think I do, then they've told you very little

and yet they've asked you to evaluate the authenticity of my work and report to them weekly.' I was taken aback. It was like he was there when I'd been given the

order. 'That is correct; may I ask how you know?' He began to speak but paused. A painful look took shape on his features. He started to shuffle his papers.

'You're not the first,' he muttered. I knew he was referring to his previous partner, but I didn't dare ask for details on the matter. Before I could utter a

word he started to speak. 'I think it's only right to warn you...about this job...about what you've been assigned to do...about me.' I let him go on. He stood up

without looking at me and started to pace the office. I turned to face him. He stopped and looked me in the eye. 'I deal with the paranormal, Agent Riley.

Little green men, psycho kinesis, UFOs, the occult..everything that this agency deems too out of the ordinary, too stupid, they dump in this office. Only I don't

look at it that way. They call me insane. Everybody knows my ideas are 'out there.' I've had to endure years of taunting about the work I do. But it is my life

and I have put my life into these files. So before you start your work with me I want you to know what you're getting into. The government wants me out. And incase

you haven't noticed you were sent to debunk my work. I lead a dangerous life and I want you to know that you're taking a big risk, possibly ruining your life by

taking this step. I don't want...the guilt trip..if something happens to you..it's...too much for me to take anymore.' He said it all in this monotonous tone finishing

as if with extreme relief. I studied him for a moment, focusing on his sad eyes. So much had happened to this man that I wanted to know, but now was not the time.

I took a deep breath and stood to face him. 'Agent Mulder, I've done my homework. I know all about you, and I don't think you're insane. After all, what is sanity but

some narrow concept of 'normal' that a group of stereotypes have shoved down our throats to hinder any sort of creativity which would lead to knowledge. And knowledge

is power, power the government can't afford to lose. I've been called insane many times over and as a matter of fact I take pride in that. You march to your own

drummer, Agent Mulder, and it just so happens I do too. I may be 'insane' but I'm not stupid. I know what I was sent to do and..well..I was never too good at taking

orders. The thing is..I want to know the truth. I want that 'power of knowledge,' and no government is going to stop me.' His eyes grew wide. He glanced at the floor

and strode over to his desk. He leant over it, palms face down, head bent. He looked back up at me with that piercing gaze that might've made my knees crumble.

He sighed and gestured to the chair again. 'Welcome to Hell's kitchen,' he said somberly. I took the seat. He walked over to one of the two file cabinets in the

office, unlocked a drawer, and picked out a file. He handed it to me. For a second it seemed his hands trembled, but before I could get a good look he turned away

and took his seat behind the desk. 'File number 817: Three murders, the last of which occurred last night. Two women and one man were taken to a forest and killed.'

'Any connections,' I asked. 'Yes, all three victims were members of the same graduating class of '99. All three also had these two strange marks on their lower

backs.' He handed me a picture. 'Did anything come up on the toxicology report?' 'Yeah,' he said handing me another paper, 'how's your chemistry?' It was a structural

formula of a chemical compound. 'Well it's organic but unlike anything I've ever seen.' 'Bingo,' he said, 'this is the only evidence we have to go on.' 'But what's

the cause of death?' 'That's just it...the bodies show no other sign of injury, the cause is unknown. I've arranged for a flight to Denver for tomorrow morning.

We've been asked to investigate this murder. Also I've arranged for one of the bodies to be exhumed. Maybe you could take a better look.' I nodded and handed him

back the papers. He looked at me, hesitated a moment and said: 'We leave at 9 in the morning, I'll pick you up at 7.''Fine, 24 Exeter Street.' We exchanged

cell numbers. 'I..uhh..if there's nothing else I guess I should go get ready,' I said. He nodded. I stood up and opened the door to leave. 'Good afternoon, Agent

Mulder.' 'Just call me Mulder, see you tomorrow,' he said without looking up. I closed the door behind me and took the flight of stairs up to the parking lot

and walked to my car.

I thought about Mulder all the way home. Everything about him intrigued me, from his sad, thought-filled eyes to the gold cross he wore on a chain around his neck.

I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what he really thought caused the deaths of those three people. I figured he wouldn't take on the case if he hadn't thought

it had something to do with the paranormal. After all, it was an 'X-File.' So many questions burned within me. What happened to his partner? It was obvious her

death had affected him immensely. Was it something to do with an X-File? The government? I shook my head slightly, telling myself that I'd know all in good time.

All in his own good time, he'd have to tell me. I thought of David. He would've laughed, kissed me on the cheek and told me not to be filling my head with more

crazy ideas. My hand flew to the 'ankh' pendant he'd given me for my 24th birthday. I hadn't taken it off since. Even though we'd gone our separate ways and it'd

ended on a sour note, I couldn't bring myself to take it off. The 'ankh' symbolized sanctuary, and until a year ago, David had been my sanctuary. He was my first

real relationship. For 3 years we shared everything. I loved him and he'd loved me back, but we grew apart. I'd matured into someone who wanted more than what

David had to offer. My theories were always too much for him. He couldn't understand my passion for the unexplained. It scared him. It scared me back then too.

And so after 3 months of hurtful words and exhausting fights, David moved to North Carolina. It crushed me, but then my job became my life, and I hardly had

time to miss him. There were always those nights where no amount of work could block out the feeling of utter loneliness that invaded my soul. I hadn't ever

completely closed my eyes on that chapter of my life. I never regretted having been with David. He taught me so many things about myself. He was a spiritual man,

and somehow managed to instill a small sense of spirituality in me. A devout Buddhist, David taught me the powers of meditation. So much of my present

life was a result of his influence. He always used to say "whatever you do, make sure you'll never have any regrets," and I certainly did not regret David.

I parked my car in the usual spot and took the stairs to my apartment. I got in and leant with my back on the wall, eyes closed. The apartment had a cold

emptiness to it. An Eagles song came to mind...'Lying Eyes.' "I guess every form of refuge has its price," I said to myself. I made way to the open-kitchen and

opened my fridge. A bag of peaches, leftover pizza, a six-pack, and a carton of expired milk was all that inhabited it. I grabbed the foil covered pizza and

a bottle of Bud Lite, threw myself on the couch and began my solitary meal. I rarely drank, but it was my only console. Remembering David always upset me.

After eating I packed for the trip and took a shower. Showers were always my way of clearing my mind. I smiled to myself as I remembered my dad's frustration

at some of the water and electricity bills he had to pay. "FOUR hours in one day?!" he would rage, "maybe you should seriously consider growing gills and buying

an aquarium!" I spent two days crying under the shower when he died. David had been there then. He would wrap me in a robe and hold me for hours on end till

I'd fall asleep. 'Ankh,' I thought to myself. The clock on my bedside table showed fifteen passed midnight when I finally put my book down. I must've lay

in bed for 2 hours awake, listening to the sound silence that crept in around me until I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

I woke to the sounds of sirens rushing past below my bedroom window. The clock blinked 5:00 AM as I hauled myself out of bed and ambled to the bathroom.

Looking at myself in the mirror I saw deep circles under my eyes-the product of not having slept an entire uninterrupted night for 6 months. My hair was

a cascade of auburn disarray. I splashed ice-cold water on my face to shake off any remaining sleep and got dressed. It would be at least another two

hours before we'd leave but I figured since I couldn't sleep, I might as well be ready. I walked out into the living room and sat on the couch, turning

on the TV. I didn't watch though, my mind drifted far from my body as the sounds of the TV set became white noise, numbing me into the unconscious. I started

as my phone vibrated on the table in front of me. I slipped on my shoes, picked up my bags, and headed for the door. Once outside, I was met with extreme

cold. The air stung at my skin as I walked to the navy Ford in the driveway. I threw my bags in the trunk and got in the car. 'Morning, Riley,' Mulder

said handing me a Starbucks coffee and a box of doughnuts. 'God's gift to the FBI,' I said taking them from him gratefully. 'Doesn't look like you got much

sleep...you alright?' 'Yeah..get used to it Mulder, I don't sleep.' 'I think this is gonna be the start of something beautiful,' he smiled starting the car.

We drove for an hour to get to the airport, discussing the case along the way. When we finally checked in, it was 8:30 with half an hour to kill. We sat in

the smoky airport cafe. 'So..why don't you sleep?' 'Huh?' I asked. My mind had gone to that far away place again. 'In the car,' Mulder repeated, 'you said

you don't sleep.' 'Oh...I never really had the time to think about it...Anxiety, I guess. I prefer to think. It's been almost a year since I've felt secure

enough to really let go of myself and sleep.' He stirred his coffee, studying me. 'I thought I was the only one,' he said thoughtfully. 'So what's your

excuse,' I asked. 'Not much different than yours I guess...' I didn't press any further. We sat in silence until the intercom announced the boarding of our

flight.

'Tally hoe,' Mulder murmured as the plane took off. Once in the air, he brought out a walkman and fell asleep listening to whatever it was. I was left to

entertain myself with a book, 'Demian.' It'd been my favorite book since the time when I was fourteen and I read the whole thing by flashlight under my

bed-covers. I'd lost count of how many times I'd read the book. I finished it inside an hour and looked up to find Mulder awake and watching me. 'Hesse, eh?'

'Yeah...you've read Demian?' 'Sure, a few times...Great book.' I put the book back in my bag. 'Abraxas,' I heard him whisper. 'It's a beautiful concept.'

'Sure,' I said, 'but try convincing some born-again Christian that the God they're worshipping is both good and evil.' Suddenly I remembered the cross he wore

around his neck, now tucked away under his dark green sweater. He smiled. 'That's why Demian wasn't a book for the masses, that's why Hesse won the Nobel.'

'And the story of Cain?' I asked, curious to hear his theories on the matter. He nodded, his eyes gone far away. Why? Why did he pull away every time our

conversation strayed onto anything other than the order of the day? Why did I have to answer his questions and get nothing but apathy in return. I turned

away frustrated.

Three hours later we had rented a car, checked ourselves into a hotel, and were making our way to our rooms. 'See you tomorrow morning, bright and early,'

he said. I didn't reply and unlocked the door to my room, leaving him standing a little confused at the doorway to his room adjacent to mine. Walking into

the room, the smell of starched linen filled my senses. It was small, but comfortable. All I cared for was the tub anyway. I dumped my bags on the carpeted

floor and made my way into the bathroom. A small white tub took most of the space in it. I tied my hair up into a loose bun and took off my clothes one by one.

God, the hot water felt good. I never did like traveling. I closed my eyes and relaxed my mind. 'Yes.' I lowered myself till my ears were underwater. 'God,

yes, that's it.' It was times like these that I missed David the most. I needed him now. To touch me. To run his hands up my back, making my skin tingle.

'No, no, no!' I lifted my head above water. I didn't want to think of him. Not now. Not when I needed to concentrate on my new position. I could hear movement

in the bathroom next to mine. I rolled my eyes, I didn't want to think of Mulder either. He'd made me so angry, without even knowing it most probably. Why was

he such an introvert? I'm his partner, he should be able to talk to me..trust me. Trust. Trust? That was something I held very sacred. I'd never trusted anybody.

Not even David knew the thoughts and feelings I held close. I guess that's part of what drove him away in the end. I could relate to Mulder a bit better now.

Probably he had more reason to keep so private. I'd heard about how his job was always on the line, messing with the government. He'd had it tough, but I wanted

to know how tough. What had happened to his partner and his sister. I decided I'd be more patient with him. I wanted to badly to earn his trust, I wasn't going

to let him block me out. I wanted to know, I wanted to help him..something about his eyes made me want to help him. To hold him and tell him it was all alright.

Exactly what David had done for me, many moons ago. Did I have that same look in my eyes? After taking a brief shower I got out of the bath and stepped onto the

towel spread out on the floor. Wrapping myself in a maroon robe, I left the bathroom and settled myself on the bed. I let my hair dry naturally in curls draping

my shoulders as I read another book. This time I read 'The Giver.' At about 8, there was a light knock on the door. 'Who is it?' I called. 'Jehovah's witness,'

came Mulder's voice from behind the door. 'It's open,' I called, not wanting to get up. Sitting up, I heard the door close behind him as he walked slowly into

the room. He wore black track pants and a baggy navy sweater, illuminating his green eyes. 'Hi,' he said quietly. His manner was different, quieter, more shy.

He looked around slowly, finally settling his eyes on me. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking me over. I felt a shiver go up my spine. His eyes were

so piercing, making me feel he could see my insides. Before I could ask what he wanted, he began to speak. 'So..uh I was just going for a walk and I wanted to

ask if you'd like to join me.' 'No that's alright, I just took a shower anyway.' 'Ok then if you're sure I'll see you tomorrow.' 'Yeah.' He turned to leave and

I followed him to the door. As he walked out he turned to say something. 'I..uh..g'nite Riley.' I closed the door and walked back to my bed. I'd have loved to

go with him. It'd been so long since I'd talked to anyone about anything other than a case. Reaching over to my bag I brought out the file on this case we were

working on. It was the strangest thing I'd seen. Three- murders? Suicides? Nothing other than those two strange looking marks on their lower backs to work with.

My major hadn't been in chemistry but I knew enough. The chemical tests on the marks revealed that they were organic. But unlike any typical chain of hydro car-

bons. I reviewed the files of the three victims. All very young, two nineteen year olds and a twenty year old. Suddenly I felt a surge of guilt. They still had

their whole lives ahead of them. Fresh out of high school, eager for the journey life brings. I though of myself at that age. A challenging, know-it-all, authority-

hating, obnoxious young girl on the outside, and a terrified child on the inside. I missed those days. Term papers, parties, clubbing, practically camping out

in the old library. I could still smell the scent of the old books and dusty shelves, of the frail paper that crinkled under my fingers. I remembered my friends.

We were so close, our little group. Studying together, breaking the rules together. We promised we'd always be in touch, try and find jobs together. That never

worked. We were so naive to the fact that we'd be so caught up and entangled in the constant struggle to earn a living. But I never forgot them. I could still

hear their voices and their laughter. I wondered briefly if they'd forgotten me. I never would have imagined myself to be where I am now. But here I was, nearly

10 years later, sitting in bed in a cheap motel room, alone, on a case that most would laugh at and toss aside. I hadn't seen my friends since our tearful goodbye

those many years ago and I had made no headway in making new ones. An hour passed while I looked over the files and made notes. The clock blinked 10:00 when I

heard the door of Mulder's room open and swing shut, and I fell asleep listening to the sounds of quiet movement from the next room.

Silence engulfed me. A feeling I should have been used to by now, a feeling of anguish and despair surged through me. I was alone. Helplessly alone. No one in

this world could hear my desperate cries. No one could save me from the darkness closing in. My screams were drowned by my own fears. My dreams were haunted

by images of the past so real I woke up in a cold sweat every time. Dreams of pain. Of faceless men. Of her..Tears stung my eyes every time I thought of her.

But I thought of her every minute of everyday. I could still hear her voice in my head, her laughter, her sobs. If I'd only known those four years ago when

she first stepped into my office with that fresh eager look on her face..would I have changed a thing? How could I have done? If I'd known her involvement with

me and my work would cost her her security, her sister, and eventually her own life..what would I have done? But part of me will never regret those four years.

For the love we shared was worth all the bereavement in the world. Something stronger than love. What do you call it when you look into a person's eyes and know

their every fleeting thought, dream, and emotion? What do you call it when words serve no purpose between two people? I don't think 'love' is a powerful enough

term. But now she was gone. The person I'd shared everything with..sometimes more than I'd have liked to at the time..was gone. Nothing but her memory remained

in my heart. A memory stronger than any physical presence. Sometimes I'd wake up in tears, panicked that I couldn't remember her face or the sound of her soft

voice in my ear. Then it'd all come back like a strong current. Her eyes..was there a name for that shade of blue? Her lips when they touched mine for the first

time. Her voice, even a whisper, could calm me. I could still feel her tears on my shoulder from those rare moments she would break down in my arms. I could

hear her calling my name in my dreams, but I could never find her. I missed her. My heart ached with anguish I could never share with a soul on this planet.

I still hadn't completely come to term with it. She'll never sit on my couch again, beautiful blue eyes fixed on the TV screen. She'll never be there to question

my theories, make me see reason, show me the world in more than just shades of grey. I'll never hear her again, save for in my dreams. I'll never feel her warm

touch. I'll never again taste her sweet skin, or watch the sunlight play with the fiery red of her hair. Her smile will never again greet me as I walk into my

office every morning. My worst fear is that I'll lose my memories of her. Strong. Brilliant. Beautiful. Dana. Dana Scully. I'll never forget the look on her face,

lying on that hospital bed. It was a look I rarely ever saw from her. A look of fear. Pleading. She tried so hard to be the strong, brave one. But I could hear

her stifling sobs at night, when she thought I was asleep. I never slept. I stayed by her side day after day night after night trying to make her laugh when

all I could think of doing was crying. Falling on my knees and crying to the heavens to cure her of the death that was claiming her body. I wanted to grab her

shoulders and shake her.

_Stop! This isn't funny! Bring her back. Bring Scully back. It's not you its not you its not it's not its not. _

I'd taken her life from her.

I'd stolen her chance at having a normal life. A family. A home. All I could offer was 'the truth,' and even that I could never give her. I loved her. I hated

her. I loved her more. Once I asked myself if I ever had to make a choice between her and Samantha, who would I choose. The answer came without thinking. Her.

Scully. For three days I shut myself in my apartment, so ashamed. I would choose her over my own sister? Samantha. Samantha. After all my relentless search for

my sister is what led me to Scully in the first place. For three days I felt nothing but remorse and hatred for Scully until I realized that she had never asked

me to choose and she probably never would. Still it hurt. Samantha wasn't all that mattered to me anymore. I had Scully. Something..someone tangible for once.

I loved her more everyday. I'd grown so accustomed to her presence in my life that I couldn't imagine or remember my life without her. She made me a whole person.

The part of my soul that had been torn away with Samantha's abduction was finally replaced. She meant the world to me. She meant more than the world could ever

mean to me. I'd never forget that night. The night I loved her. The night she let me show her through one act of love what she was to me. The night I told her

I loved her, less than two weeks before she was gone. I remember kissing her. Pressing her to me, feeling her skin on mine. Kissing every inch of her as she held

on to me. Her neck, her back. Unbearable pleasure for one night. It was like I was meant to have her for only one night. Like Samantha she had been taken from

me. My soul had been stripped. But Samantha's abduction was sudden, unexpected. I watched Scully slip away, become weaker with each passing day. I watched the

life drain out of her. I heard her voice weaken. Her body became numb with morphine. Sometimes I think I felt more pain than she did. I still feel the pain.

It was a cold, rainy Tuesday when I awoke to find her bed empty. They said she'd passed. I was too numb to ask questions. I didn't go to the funeral, for that

would make the whole thing terribly real. I still had a glimmer of hope that it was a bad dream. A terribly real dream. And that I'd wake up to find her lying

next to me, and her rhythmic breathing would soothe me back to sleep. The patter of rainfall on the window broke the silence and awoke me from my trance. I

remembered the first case I ever worked on with Scully. We sat together in a hotel not much different than this one, listening to the rain fall outside. Could

I ever imagine that in four year's time this is where I'd be. Without her. Alone. Working on some case with another woman. Not Scully. She could never be Scully.

I was even afraid to talk to her. I felt it was a betrayal of Scully. A betrayal of our partnership. But I had no one else. I wanted to talk to her. To tell her

my pathetic life story. God knows how hard it's been keeping it all inside, eating at me. I needed to tell someone. But I didn't want to. I could tell she sensed

my uneasiness. She'd made a few efforts to talk but I'd brushed them off. I couldn't. I wasn't ready. But she had that look. A look like she was running from

the same ghosts as I was. These thoughts were my last as fits of restless sleep came over me. Outside it continued to pour. Each raindrop hitting bright and

hard on the glass, almost like a jewel, and then fading into oblivion.


End file.
